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nydus/A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s CourtPublic

An engineer from 19th-century Connecticut is sent back in time to King Arthur’s medieval England.

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Table of Contents

VII

more formidably, after all his practice on those nightmares they call his “celebrated Hampton Court cartoons.” Raphael was a bird. We had several of his chromos; one was his Miraculous Draught of Fishes , where he puts in a miracle of his own⁠—puts three men into a canoe which wouldn’t have held a dog without upsetting. I always admired to study R. ’s art, it was so fresh and unconventional.

There wasn’t even a bell or a speaking-tube in the castle. I had a great many servants, and those that were on duty lolled in the anteroom; and when I wanted one of them I had to go and call for him. There was no gas, there were no candles; a bronze dish half full of boardinghouse butter with a blazing rag floating in it was the thing that produced what was regarded as light. A lot of these hung along the walls and modified the dark, just toned it down enough to make it dismal. If you went out at night, your servants carried torches. There were no books, pens, paper or ink, and no glass in the openings they believed to be windows. It is a little thing⁠—glass is⁠—until it is absent, then it becomes a big thing. But perhaps the worst of all was, that there wasn’t any sugar, coffee, tea, or tobacco. I saw that I was just another Robinson Crusoe cast away on an uninhabited island, with no society but some more or less tame animals, and if I wanted to make life bearable I must do as he did⁠—invent, contrive, create, reorganize things; set brain and hand to work, and keep them busy. Well, that was in my line.

One thing troubled me along at first⁠—the immense interest which people took in me. Apparently the whole nation wanted a look at me. It soon transpired that the eclipse had scared the British world almost to death; that while it lasted the whole country, from one end to the other, was in a pitiable state of panic, and the churches, hermitages, and monkeries overflowed with praying and weeping poor creatures who thought the end of the world was come. Then had followed the news that the producer of this awful event was a stranger, a mighty magician at Arthur’s court; that he could have blown out the sun like a candle, and

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